


Honorverse AU: Honor of the Queen

by dptullos



Category: Honor Harrington Series - David Weber
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:55:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dptullos/pseuds/dptullos
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

“Captain Honor Stephanie Harrington!”

The herald’s voice resounded through the great hall, and Honor stepped forward, feeling every eye upon her. Jared Mayhew turned his back, glowering, but Protector Benjamin smiled graciously down upon her. “Welcome to Grayson, Captain Harrington,” he proclaimed. “I understand that you have the honor of serving under Admiral Courvoisier?”

“Yes, sir,” Honor said. “I mean, yes, Protector. I command  _ Fearless _ .” A murmur of disapproval rose from the crowd around the throne, elderly Steadholders in dark suits voicing their disdain for a  _ woman  _ daring to command any vessel, let alone a warship. The Protector’s upraised hand silenced them all. 

Protector Benjamin said, “ _ Fearless  _ once saved Grayson from the accursed Masadans. I trust that her new captain will be worthy of his legacy.” 

“Yes, sir.”  _ Fearless  _ was a  _ she _ , but Honor bit her tongue and said nothing more. Admiral Courvoisier trusted her not to embarrass him before the Protector. “I am honored by the opportunity to serve alongside the Grayson Space Navy.” 

Applause echoed through the great hall, though Honor noticed that many of the older Steadholders were silent. But the uniformed officers were clapping, some obediently and a few with real enthusiasm, and the sight of their approval encouraged her. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she had expected. The Protector raised his hand again, and silence fell.

The Protector of Grayson was a distinguished man, with grey hair and a warm, pleasant smile. He was dressed in the same dark suit as his Steadholders, but there was a sword belted at his side. The hereditary autocrat of the entire planet looked a little like her paternal grandfather, though Arthur Harrington had none of the Protector’s force of personality. Protector Benjamin examined her thoughtfully for a moment longer, and she stood stiffly at attention, determined to present the perfect image of a Royal Manticoran Navy officer. 

“Thank you, Captain,” the Protector said graciously, and she bowed low, backing away from the throne. A Grayson admiral took her place, his blue uniform gleaming with gold braid, and she gratefully retreated back into the crowd. Honor could still feel hostile stares following her, and she forced her face to remain calm and professional, just as a proper naval officer should. By the time that she arrived back at Admiral Courvosier’s side, most of them had turned their attention back to the Protector.

Except for Jared Mayhew. The Protector’s cousin was still watching her with hatred in his eyes. Honor had always hated political games within the Navy, but at least those made sense. The Minister of Industry obviously loathed her, even though she’d never done anything to him. For that matter, she’d never even met him before today!

Admiral Courvoisier said softly, “I believe it’s time for us to go, Captain Harrington.” She obediently turned to follow her mentor, falling into step beside him as they made their way towards the exit. Planetary Security men in somber gray stood before great doors carved from dark wood, hands resting upon the pistols at their side, but they stepped aside, opening the doors for the admiral to pass through. The dull murmur of the crowd died as the doors shut behind them with a dull  _ thud _ , and Honor sighed in relief.

“Glad to be away from court, Captain Harrington?” The voice was amused, but it sounded like the speaker was sharing a private joke, not entertaining himself at her expense. She turned to face an elderly man with warm, friendly dark eyes. He held out a hand, and she shook it automatically, returning his smile. Then she recognized him, and fought to keep a pleasant expression on her face. 

“I…,” she said. “I am pleased to meet you, Ambassador Masterman.” Her cheeks burned with shame, but she kept her mouth tightly shut. She had embarrassed the Admiral enough for one day. 

Masterman said, “A fine young officer, Admiral. By all accounts, young Captain Harrington is a woman of great ability. I am always pleasantly surprised to find commoners with such a high rank in the Royal Manticoran Navy.” 

She opened her mouth to defend the service’s honor, and promptly closed it again. Honor could fight a ship, but she had never been able to fight a war of words. 

Besides, it was not as if the Ambassador was wrong. If not for Admiral Courvoisier's patronage, she would have been lucky to end her career as an executive officer under a captain with the proper family connections. Only his intervention had raised her to command rank _ ,  _ and she knew that the Admiral had spent favors and made enemies to give her a warship. All that she had, she owed to him. 

“Ambassador Masterman,” Admiral Courvoisier said. He sounded like he was talking to a close friend, though Honor’s limited knowledge of their relationship suggested that “friendly” would not be an accurate description. “Hostile” or sometimes “murderous” would have been more accurate. “I see that your First Consul has an eye for talent.” 

Masterman shrugged. “First Consul McQueen understands that I have always acted in the service of Haven,” he said calmly. “ And she has always been willing to use whatever tools are required for victory. Despite any past disagreements, we have a shared concern for Haven’s security in this region, so I find myself back on Grayson. It is an unexpected pleasure to return to this lovely world, even if I find the circumstances regrettable.” 

Only a lunatic or a liar would have called Grayson “lovely”, and Honor thought that Masterman seemed extremely sane. The entire planet was so poisonous that simply stepping outside could kill an offworlder within minutes; even Graysons, genetically engineered to survive their world’s toxins, could not breathe the atmosphere for long. It was honestly a miracle that the original colonists had survived at all. 

“The Protector has declined your kind offer of friendship? How sad.” Admiral Courvosier smiled very slightly. “It seems that he prefers more reliable friends.” 

“I can hardly compete with Protector Benjamin’s dear friend Raoul,” Masterman said. “After you protected him during the Maccabeus Plot, he’s always been loyal to the Star Kingdom. It’s such a shame you weren’t able to save the rest of his government, but I’m sure that you did what you could.” 

There was something about Masterman’s tone that suggested a hidden meaning to his words, and Honor bristled. Admiral Courvoisier  _ had  _ saved the Graysons from Masada. He had driven back the fanatics and preserved the freedom...well, Graysons weren’t exactly  _ free _ , but they were more free than the Masadans.

She certainly wasn’t going to hear lectures on “liberation” from  _ Haven _ . Under the People’s Republic they had sometimes made a genuine effort to export their murderous egalitarianism to other worlds, but the First Consul’s Republic happily made alliances with the worst despots in explored space. It was Manticore’s duty and honor to preserve smaller nations from the Havenite threat, even if that sometimes meant working with dubious partners. 

“Protector,” the woman at Masterman’s side said. “His ancestors seized power at the point of a gun, without the consent of the People, and he calls himself a “Protector”. A wolf might name himself the “Protector” of the sheep, but a name does not change the truth.”

Admiral Courvoisier said, “Sabrina. It’s been a while.” The woman at Masterman’s side nodded, and Honor looked at her for the first time. She was completely unremarkable, with a face that was neither handsome nor ugly, short black hair, and brown eyes that lacked any of Masterman’s warmth or charm. She just seemed...tired. 

Something about the woman was familiar, though, and Honor found herself trying to remember. She had seen her face in a class long ago, back at the Academy, when she was a young cadet. It had been one of Admiral Courvoisier's Tactics classes, and he was talking about defeat.  _ Defeat is the teacher of last resort. When you believe yourself invincible, when you are certain that your plans will succeed, defeat will remind you that the enemy always has a vote. Let us consider the First Battle of Seabring…” _

“My God,” Honor said. “Sabrina Longmont?  _ Admiral  _ Sabrina Longmont?” She was wearing a plain brown tunic and trousers, and she looked more like a clerk than the legendary People’s Admiral. But Admiral Sabrina Longmont undeniably stood before her. “The Savior of Seabring?”

Longmont said, “No.” The word was sharp and furious, and she took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “Seabring was won by the men and women who fought and died there, not one officer. And Admiral Courvoisier took the system away from us in the Second Battle of Seabring.” 

Honor said, “Yes, ma’m. But you and your people won the first battle. The first real victory for the People’s Navy.” This woman had led the  _ Conqueror  _ mutiny, rallied the routing People’s Navy at Seabring, and commanded the Zanzibar Offensive. Meeting Longmont was like stepping into one of Admiral Courvoisier's lectures. “Ma’am, how did you…” 

Admiral Courvoisier glanced at her, and she stopped talking. Masterman said, “My old friend Sabrina has agreed to join me as an unofficial military advisor. Though her rank was never formally restored, the First Consul felt that his experience would be valuable in this situation.” If the People’s Admiral was upset by her exile to a distant frontier world, she didn’t show it. “Sabrina tells me you’ve built quite a fleet for your Grayson friends.”

_ Fearless  _ would be the flagship. The sting of giving her first command away was lessened by the knowledge that the Graysons would appreciate her properly. She was an old ship, with a proud record, and the thought of  _ Fearless  _ going to the scrapyard was almost physically painful to Honor. The old girl deserved to keep fighting, even if she wouldn’t be a Queen’s ship anymore. 

“Yes, sir,” Honor replied. “The Graysons are quick learners. I’m glad to be working with them.” It was mostly true. The officers assigned to her were obedient, intelligent, and capable. If she sometimes caught them glancing at her in confusion, as if they were wondering why there was a  _ woman  _ in the captain’s chair, she did her best to pretend that she hadn’t noticed. 

Masterman nodded agreeably. “A fascinating people,” he said. “You know, I thought that it was impossible to draw them out of isolation, but the Admiral found a way. He always finds a way.” He saluted Admiral Courvosier like a fencer acknowledging a point. “Duty calls, but I hope to see you both again.” 

Honor watched both of them depart, holding in her words until they were gone. When they vanished into a side corridor, she finally spoke. “Admiral Courvoisier, I remember what you told me about Masterman.” “Viper” and “backstabber” had been some of the  _ kinder  _ things he’d said. “I don’t think he’s here on a routine diplomatic mission.”

“Oh, Honor,” the Admiral said. “I take back my earlier remarks. Maybe you  _ do  _ have a future in politics.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s a small favor, Raoul. Nothing much. I just want you to conquer Masada for me.”

Honor dropped her fork on the floor. Protector Benjamin ignored Honor completely, eyes fixed on the Admiral, but his second wife smiled kindly at her, which only made her feel worse. 

Admiral Courvoisier said, “A small favor.” His voice managed to be completely polite while still proclaiming that the Protector had gone completely insane, which was why he was a diplomat and Honor wasn’t. “You only want me to conquer a planet full of fanatics.” 

“Come, Raoul. Your Queen has granted you plenipotentiary authority to negotiate in her name, and the Star Kingdom is still officially at war with Masada. The only reason that you haven’t conquered them already is that it simply wasn’t worth the time and effort, and I can make it worth your time and effort.” The Protector took a bite of steak, chewed, and swallowed. “Full basing rights in Grayson. No temporary bargains; a hundred-year lease. Free refueling for any and all Manticoran ships that pass through Grayson, and of course we’ll deny Haven’s merchants the right to pass through our system.” 

Honor was hardly an expert on international affairs, but that sounded like a good bargain. Except for the “conquer Masada” part, which sounded insane. Even  _ Haven  _ didn’t want to conquer Masada, and they wanted to conquer everyone. 

Katherine Mayhew said, “We have an excellent justification, Admiral. Masada attacks our mining ships from time to time, so it would be simple to give them an ultimatum. Once they refuse to make peace- and they will refuse- we will be entirely within our rights to conquer them and impose terms.” 

The Admiral took a sip of red wine, considering this. Then he said, “Why?” 

“Well,” Benjamin said. “It will be nice to get rid of the Masadan threat once and for all, but to be honest there isn’t much of a Masadan threat anymore. The real reason is domestic.” He shook his head regretfully. “There are a great many Graysons who don’t appreciate the Mayhew Restoration. The conservatives hate me for making a bargain with heathens, of course, but the liberals  _ also  _ hate me for maintaining my God-given powers as Protector. I gave them a Conclave of Steaders, but they insist on some absurd idea of a new constitution, as though the old one wasn’t good enough anymore.” 

Honor took a drink from her own wine glass, looking away. As far as she could tell, the Grayson Constitution didn’t have any of the fundamental rights that existed in Manticore’s Constitution. There was no freedom of speech, no right to free and fair elections, and certainly no freedom of religion! And that was only for men; when it came to women, the only rights that existed were those that men  _ chose  _ to give them. In fairness to Protector Benjamin, he had done his best to grant women more of a place in the workforce, but he certainly hadn’t been interested in radical reforms. 

She wasn’t a politician, of course, but Admiral Courvosier had insisted that she study Grayson’s political background before they came here. He was remarkably critical of the “Mayhew Restoration'', especially considering that he was the man who had made it possible. 

The Protector’s first wife said, “A short, victorious war. Victory will calm the people and show the Steadholders that the Protector’s traditional powers are necessary. The conquest of Masada will bring us through this period of instability into a bright new era of progress.” Her cool blue eyes examined the Admiral thoughtfully. “And we would be willing to offer substantial concessions to your Queen. Concessions even beyond what my husband has already discussed.” 

“Interesting,” the Admiral said. “My instructions do permit me to wage defensive war on behalf of our allies.  _ If  _ Grayson was to sign a treaty of alliance and friendship with the Star Kingdom of Manticore, and  _ if  _ Masada was to conduct an unprovoked attack upon civilians, then I would have to fight with your Navy. The honor of the Queen would require nothing less.” He paused, considering the Protector and Katherine Mayhew with intelligent dark eyes. “I would expect the Protector’s honor to repay that service.”

After that, it was all over but the haggling. Honor sat in silence with the second wife- Elaine Mayhew- for the better part of an hour, listening to Admiral Courvoisier cold-bloodedly bargain with the Protector and his first wife. When they finished, the Admiral held out his hand, and the ruler of a planet shook it as an equal, smiling broadly. 

“I knew you’d come through for me, Raoul. You’ve always been a friend, and I won’t forget it.”

The Admiral said, “I am only a servant of my Queen, Protector Benjamin. I act for the Star Kingdom of Manticore, now and always.” He bowed his head politely. “Protector. Madam Mayhew. Madam Mayhew. Thank you for a wonderful dinner.” 

Honor hastily rose to say her goodbyes. The protocol training the Admiral had hammered into her served her well, and she managed to follow the script. If there was an amused twinkle in Katherine Mayhew’s eyes, she didn’t say anything, and Honor bowed deeply to the older woman after offering her first bow to the Protector. 

Elaine Mayhew said, “God go with you, Captain Harrington.” She had been quiet throughout the entire meal, but now her eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm. “I am very glad that I had a chance to meet you.” 

Honor blinked, staring in confusion at the plump woman, and Protector Benjamin laughed. “Elaine has read all about your exploits, Captain Harrington,” he told her. “She’s something of an admirer. If Grayson does ever accept women in our military, I hope they will be as brave and loyal as you have proven.” 

She just stood there, stunned, until Admiral Courvoisier took her arm. “Thank you, Madam Mayhew,” he said warmly. “I’ll make sure I invite Captain Harrington to our next meal. Perhaps she can tell you some of her stories in person.” 

By the time they reached the waiting shuttle, Honor had recovered enough to speak. “She...admired me? I thought that Grayson women viewed me as Satan’s whore.” None of them said it to her face, not when she was the Protector’s guest, but it wasn’t hard to interpret the looks.

“Some of them do,” Admiral Courvoisier said, buckling his seatbelt. “But Grayson isn’t isolated anymore, Honor. They have contact with the rest of the galaxy, and Grayson women are changing with their planet.” He smiled sadly. “I have many regrets about what I did on Grayson, Honor. That isn’t one of them.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said. The shuttle rose into the sky, carrying them away from the Protector’s Palace and a young woman who wanted to grow up to be like Honor Harrington. Maybe they were changing Grayson for the better. Maybe one day Elaine Mayhew’s daughters could grow up to fight for their country. 

Fight for their country. “Sir,” Honor said carefully. “We should tell Doctor Houseman about your decision.” 

She had never been more grateful that she wasn’t a diplomat. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” 

Honor Harrington wondered if Doctor Houseman was actually going to have a stroke. His hands were visibly shaking with rage, and she took a step back, stunned by his anger. In all the weeks they’d traveled together aboard  _ Fearless _ , she had never heard him raise his voice. 

“You committed the Star Kingdom of Manticore to a war of imperial conquest,” Doctor Houseman said. “So that your good friend Benjamin can secure his power and sign a nice treaty giving us a permanent base here. A permanent base that most Graysons don’t want us to have, but your  _ pet tyrant  _ will just give us the base anyway as long as we help him conquer a planet or two.” He took a deep breath. “Any other confessions, Raoul?”

Admiral Courvoisier said, “No, Reginald, that’s all.” Doctor Houseman’s hands clenched into fists, and Honor hastily stepped between the two men. “Her Majesty tasked me with acquiring a permanent base in the Grayson system. Your objections are noted, but I will carry out my orders using any means I consider appropriate.” 

Doctor Houseman looked at Honor, then stared down at his hands. He took a long step back, put his hands behind his back, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for my language, Captain Harrington. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“It’s all right, sir,” Honor said cautiously. “I understand that you’re upset.” If he had charged the Admiral, she wasn’t sure which of them would win. Doctor Houseman was a small man, but Admiral Courvosier was much older, and the look of berserk rage on the Doctor’s face promised that he wouldn’t be easy to stop. Honor was prepared to defend her admiral from isolationist fanatics and Havenite agents, but she hadn’t joined the Royal Manticoran Navy to fight soft-spoken academics. 

Snatching up a green bottle from the side table, Doctor Houseman drank deeply, paused, and then took another drink. “I never used to touch the stuff before they sent me to Grayson,” he told Honor. “And now your admiral is going to make me into an alcoholic. I wonder how Parliament will feel when they find out that our dear Queen’s representative committed us to conquering a world for our new ally?” 

“Um,” Honor said. She glanced at Admiral Courvosier, but he gestured for her to go on, and she indulged in a brief moment of bitter resentment towards her commander. “I think the idea is that we’ll wait for Masada to do something, and then respond to the provocation. Except we won’t stop with blowing up a raider or three, we’ll just conquer the whole planet. Defensively.” 

“Conquer the planet. Defensively.” Doctor Houseman set the bottle down, adjusted his glasses, and sighed heavily. “Well, Admiral, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your  _ defensive  _ plans. I will send a report to Parliament, but I’m not sure they even read them. As long as the RMN gets the base we need, our elected leaders don’t care how it’s done.” 

“Death to the invaders!” Honor rushed over to the window, one hand reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there, and saw an old man waving a sign. GRAYSON FOR THE GRAYSONS! was written across it in bright red letters. 

The young woman next to him brandished her own sign, which read DOWN WITH THE TYRANT. “Equal rights for all!,” she shouted. “We are all God’s children!” 

Walking over to the window, Houseman pulled it open. “Hello!,” he yelled. “Would you like to come up and talk? I promise that you’ll be free to go when you’re done.” The old man stared up in horror, then turned to run away, moving with remarkable speed. The young woman hesitated, looking up in surprise. Doctor Houseman waved enthusiastically, and she finally waved back. As she turned to walk towards the front door, he glanced back at the Admiral. 

“Sorry,” Houseman said. “Protector Benjamin keeps letting protestors through the security cordon, just so I can see how Grayson hates Manticore and he’s our only friend. None of them are really dangerous, though, or he wouldn’t let them near the embassy. We’ve had some interesting talks over tea, and I hope that most Graysons know that we don’t really support the Protector’s tyranny. Or at least that  _ I  _ don’t.” 

Honor still had no idea why the Foreign Office had decided to send Doctor Houseman to Grayson. It was safe to say that he was...less than committed to the Queen’s policy towards Grayson, and he was frankly insubordinate towards Admiral Courvoisier. While she respected the man’s principles, in the admiral’s place she would already have sent him back to Manticore and requested a replacement who would follow orders. 

Houseman chuckled. “You’re wondering why Raoul hasn’t given me the sack,” he told Honor. She shook her head hastily, but he only grinned. “You see, Honor, my cousin is the Foreign Minister. She certainly doesn’t care about democracy or equal rights for Graysons, but she would be greatly offended if one of her relatives was insulted by a mere admiral. So little things like “discipline” and “chain of command” don’t really matter, because my cousins have more money than Raoul’s cousins.” 

He held out a glass of amber liquid, and she took it cautiously. “It’s an awful system,” Houseman admitted. “But it means that I can go around spreading sedition on Grayson with impunity, while Raoul does his best to keep our tyrant in charge.” 

The door of Houseman’s quarters swung open, and a Marine sergeant entered, booted feet sinking into the rich carpet. She snapped to attention and saluted, and Honor returned the salute automatically. “Admiral. Captain.” The sergeant turned to Houseman. “Doctor. There’s a young woman here to see you, says that she’d like to discuss the moral bankruptcy of Manticore in general and you in particular. She’s not armed.” 

Houseman nodded agreeably. “Very good, Sergeant,” he said. “I’ll be down to confess my moral failings right away. Please get her some tea while she’s waiting.” The sergeant spun on her heel and marched out. “Well, Raoul, I can’t actually stop you. I’ll just meet with the young lady and then write another meaningless report to my cousin. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear that you’re doing such a fine job of crushing the hopes and dreams of Grayson’s people.” 

With an ironic salute, Houseman followed the sergeant out of the room, leaving the Admiral and Honor alone. The door slammed behind them, and Honor found herself alone with her commanding officer. 

In the long term, Masada would be better off under the Graysons. Houseman might call the Protector “tyrant”- he might not be wrong- but there were laws restricting what a father could do to his daughter or a husband to his wife. Under Protector Benjamin, those laws were enforced more than they had been under the rule of the Protector’s Council, when each Steadholder could govern their own steading like a sovereign nation. Honor believed that. She needed to believe that.

Perhaps a benevolent tyrant was what Grayson needed right now. 

“Honor,” Admiral Courvoisier said. “I need you to understand something.” She came to attention, eyes fixed on her commanding officer. “One day I hope that you’ll stand in my place. When you do, you need to understand this; a Queen’s Officer does not have personal honor. Manticore’s security requires us to have a base in the Yeltsin system, so I made a bargain with Protector Benjamin. If I had to make a deal with Chief Elder Simonds, I would have.” 

Honor looked at her admiral, her teacher and patron and friend. “But sir,” she said quietly. “The Masadans would…”

“I’m very glad it didn’t come to that. But I would do worse- I have done worse- to protect my nation.” He met Honor’s gaze without flinching. “There is no room for Doctor Houseman's principles in the Queen’s Service.” 

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Doctor Houseman’s antique clock ticked steadily away in the background, counting off seconds, and Honor wondered if she could make the Admiral’s choice. It was easy enough to give your life in the Queen’s Service, but Honor did not know if she could surrender her honor. Before she had resented the fact that she would never be an admiral, but now she saw that it might be a mercy. A mere captain would never be called on to make this kind of decision.

Admiral Courvoisier said, “With that said, Honor, I’m not too upset by my agreement with the Protector. I’m fairly confident that Grayson martial law will be a step up from the current Masadan government.” He smiled at her. “Imagine thinking the problem with Grayson is that they aren’t theocratic  _ enough _ .” 

Thank God that the Star Kingdom had never engaged in that kind of nonsense. Her nation had too much good sense to mix church and state, while Graysons were incapable of doing anything without hours of debate about religious law and the “will of the Tester”. Honor was a good Christian, but God had given her a brain so that she could use it. 

“Yes, sir,” Honor said. “Sir,  _ Fearless  _ is almost ready for combat. We can complete the rest of our preparations on the way.” 

“No, Captain Harrington.” The Admiral looked more amused than annoyed. “ _ Fearless  _ is an old cruiser with a half-trained Grayson crew. Besides, your port sidewall is still unreliable. I’m not letting you take her into battle until she’s fixed.” 

Arguments died on her tongue. She could fight  _ Fearless  _ as she was, and her crew was coming along well, but there was a time to argue and a time to salute. Honor saluted the Admiral, and he smiled at her. “I was a bold young captain once,” he said. “I know what I thought of old admirals holding me back from glory.” 

“I’m sure you were perfectly respectful, sir.”

He laughed warmly. “No, Honor, I was not. But I was a Courvoisier, so my career survived. Aristocrats are allowed to be damn fools in the Queen’s Navy.” 

Honor realized that she was still holding the glass of liquor Doctor Houseman had given her. She placed it carefully on the side table, then turned back towards her commander. “ _ Troubadour  _ can manage on her own,” she said. “The Graysons aren’t up to our standards, but they won’t be fighting Haven.”

“That’s why we have to do this  _ now _ ,” the Admiral told her. “We need to get in fast, Honor, before McQueen realizes what we’re doing. As long as she thinks this is just another skirmish, she’ll be happy to let the Masadans get a bloody nose. Every ship they lose makes them more dependent on her, and she wants a fleet base here as much as we do.” 

Politics were not Honor’s strength. But she would trust  _ Troubadour  _ and the Admiral to conquer Masada on their own, even without the Grayson Space Navy. No one in the galaxy fought like Manticore. By the time that McQueen realized what was going on, it would be far too late for her to stop the Admiral. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Heresy!”

Chief Elder Simonds shrieked the word, his ancient face flushed with rage, and the old men around him murmured their agreemenl. “Heresy, brothers,” he said. “I thought that even the Apostate Mayhew would not sink so low, but it seems that I was wrong. He would sell Grayson into slavery so that he could erase the last remnant of God’s Faithful. But the Lord will not allow this abomination.” 

“God’s children are prepared, Chief Elder.” Sword Simonds was standing stiffly at attention, looking pale and resolute. “All of Masada’s brave sons will die fighting before we surrender to the blasphemers and their Godless allies.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the assembled Elders. The Council sat in a circle, with their Havenite guests at the center. Sabrina stood like a statue, hands clasped behind his back, while Masterman was beaming happily at his new Masadan friends. At least if the fanatics did decide to cut Sabrina to pieces and send them back to Haven in a box, she would take the ambassador with him.

“A holy death,” Eldar Huggins said. He was a small, balding man with intelligent brown eyes, and Sabrina thought that he meant what he said. “It would be better to blight this fair world with nuclear fire than to allow the last stronghold of the True Faith to fall to the lies of the Apostate.” 

Ambassador Masterman said, “Perhaps it will not come to that.” He had a soft, persuasive voice, the kind of voice that it was easy to trust. That was usually a mistake. Masterman was a man without principles, who had served the Legislaturists before joining the Revolution and retained his position under First Consul McQueen. He had grown rich and powerful by changing sides when the time was right. 

Sabrina had never been good at politics. That was why she had wound up in a cell under the Committee of Public Safety, while Esther McQueen went on to take his place as Secretary of War. Esther had always known how to say what people wanted to hear. 

“The Republic of Haven is ready to assist our Masadan friends. We cannot act openly, not while the truce holds, but Haven will not allow the Star Kingdom to conquer your world. We will happily provide you with ships and experienced officers.” He smiled cheerfully. “On one condition.” 

Chief Elder Simonds visibly considered having the ambassador shot dead on the spot. Sabrina could sympathize. But no one ever shot Masterman, no matter how much they wanted to, because while he was treacherous and contemptible, he was also usually right. “What condition is that, Ambassador?”

“None of your commanders have the necessary experience in this kind of conflict,” Masterman said.  _ None of your commanders have the experience to pour piss out of a boot _ . “We would require that your fleet follow our...direction.”  _ Obey our orders _ . “Perhaps Captain Longmont could be assigned as an advisor to your Sword.” 

Captain Longmont. She had been a captain, then an admiral, then Secretary of War, and now she was a captain again, as she had been in the first days of the Revolution. When she stood on  _ Conqueror’s  _ bridge, baptized in the blood of her old comrades, and proclaimed the truth of the Revolution to all of Nouveau Paris. 

Now she would command the Masadan Navy. If there was a God, He had a cruel sense of humor. 

The Chief Elder leaned back in his chair. Masadans were ferociously opposed to luxury, at least in public, so the most powerful man on the planet wore a simple brown robe. Their meeting place was just as austere; the hidden bunker far beneath the planet’s surface held none of the luxuries that a Legislaturist or Manticoran noble would have taken for granted. The Council of Elders sat in wooden chairs under the cold glare of the overhead lights, and the concrete floor was decorated only by the bloodstains of the last Chief Elder.

Chief Elder Oswald had died for his failure to conquer Grayson, and Simonds had risen to power in his place. His reign had seen constant skirmishing with the Graysons, but no actual war, and Sabrina suspected that he was something of a pragmatist. The Faithful might claim that it was their holy duty to reclaim Grayson, but Chief Elders who tried usually came to a messy end. It was safer to talk about the evils of the apostate while avoiding open conflict. 

Safer until now. Sabrina could smell the fear in the room, the cold terror of impending doom. It reminded her of the early days of the Revolution, when the tyrants were closing in from all sides and it seemed impossible that the People’s Republic could prevail. Her people had found a way to victory, a path of blood and sacrifice. The Revolution had defeated every foreign enemy, only to fall prey to the human weakness of its servants. 

The Masadans had no path to victory. They could fight and die in vain, struggling against impossible odds, and in the end Courvoisier would crush them. They could burn their own world in a fit of lunacy, and leave nothing but ashes for the invaders. Or they could take Masterman’s bargain. 

“Yes,” the Chief Elder said. Though he had to know that he would die if the alliance failed, his voice was steady and calm. “We accept your terms, Ambassador. My brother will be glad for Captain Longmont’s advice.”

Sword Matthew Simonds nodded sharply. He was the willing servant of a vicious, theocratic society, an insane asylum that made Grayson seem liberal by comparison, but he did not strike Sabrina as a fool. “As you command, Chief Elder. With God’s blessing, we shall drive back the apostate and preserve the Faithful!”

There was no mention of “liberating” Grayson. Perhaps the Chief and his brother were not entirely blind to reality, even if they were religious fanatics. 

Haven would not conquer Grayson. If they did, the Star Kingdom would have to respond, and Esther was not ready for another war. Her instructions on that subject were very clear. “Honored Elders,” Sabrina said, speaking for the first time. “I fought Admiral Courvoisier before.” Sabrina had lost two out of three battles, but she wasn’t going to mention that. “I know how he thinks. I know how he fights. If we work together, we can defeat him.”

“God wills it,” Elder Huggins said. The rest of the Council joined him, voices raised in unison. “GOD WILLS IT!”

It was just like last time. Masada had joined Haven eagerly, glad of any chance to conquer their “heretic” cousins, even if it meant allying with nonbelievers. They had raced towards victory, and when it had not come they searched for scapegoats. God could not fail, so it must be the Masadans who had failed their God.

The Chosen People of God had become very familiar with defeat over the centuries, and they always found the same way to explain that failure. Huggins was probably looking forward to dismembering the Chief Elder and taking his place. Of course, if Simonds  _ did  _ fail, the Graysons would invade, and he might not enjoy the Chief Elder’s position for long. There was some comfort in knowing that a Manticoran victory would be a Masadan defeat. 

How had they fallen so low? Once the servants of the People’s Republic had marched forth to bring the Revolution’s truth to every world, to break chains and cast down tyrants. Sabrina knew that Haven’s Revolution had been flawed. She knew that they had failed the People. But for all their failures and crimes, they had  _ believed _ . Rob and Oscar had tried to serve the People and the Revolution, while Esther had never believed in anything greater than herself. 

At her command, Citizen Sabrina Longmont was going to defend a planet of cultists who murdered nonbelievers and treated women like cattle. She was going to preserve their malevolent regime for at least a while longer. She was going to defend her nation’s interests without regard for the good of the People, just like Admiral Courvoisier. 

And perhaps, if it was possible, Sabrina would spread the Revolution’s light among the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 

Protector Benjamin IX had learned that truth when he was fourteen years old, and he would never let himself forget. It was easy to believe in the pretty lies, the grand ceremonies and proclamations of loyalty. Some of his ancestors had been happy to mistake pageantry for reality, and they had usually lived long, comfortable lives.

His grandfather had not. Benjamin had studied at his knee as a child, learning the difference between law and custom, between the myth of the Protector’s absolute power and the truth of their position. John Mayhew had seen the danger of a weak Protector and a divided, squabbling Conclave. He had studied the threats that lurked among the stars, the greedy Havenites and fierce Andermani, and sought to prepare Grayson for the day when foreign warships came to their skies. 

They had buried Grandfather on Easter, and worn mourning for a year afterwards. When the year was done, Father had sent Benjamin away to Old Earth. It had been strange to live among the heathen, but Benjamin was a good student, and the Godless had much to teach him. Earth had given him perspective, a new understanding of Grayson, and he was grateful for the gift. 

When he returned at twenty-two, he did not share his knowledge. The Steadholders treated him with courtesy, and he paid proper deference to his elders. Benjamin’s father had given him a false smile and told him that he would be a good Protector one day, and Benjamin had said nothing. That was best. Grandfather had loved to talk, and he was dead. 

Benjamin did not think Father would be proud of him. Peter Mayhew had been a kind man, a good man, but he had been born into the wrong family. He would have made an excellent Steadholder in one of the smaller Steadings, working busily to help his people and avoiding the snake pit of the Conclave. He had never wanted power. 

“The public will support us.” Howard sounded happy, or at least as close to happy as the old man could come. “Conservative, Liberal, or Loyalist, everyone hates the Masadans. Any doubts about the wisdom of your alliance with Manticore will be swept away when we finally crush the heretics.” 

There was something that might have been a  _ smile  _ on Howard’s face, which was unheard of. “We’ve already begun a propaganda campaign reminding the public about Masadan atrocities. The raids, the terror bombings, and of course the Maccabeus Plot. By the time that we’re done, all of Grayson will be calling for justice.” 

The Protector was supposed to be just. He hadn’t been, of course, but justice wasn’t really what a ruler did. Benjamin had built great orbital farms to feed his people and foreign medicines to heal them. He had forged a strong alliance with the Star Kingdom to keep his people safe. It was hard enough to provide security and food and medicine without having to worry about justice. 

“Excellent work, Howard,” Benjamin said. The old man bowed low and took his seat among the other men at the table. Admirals in the blue of the Grayson Space Navy, generals in dark green, and Steadholders in their black suits, all of them waiting on their Protector’s command.

He let them wait. Not long enough to cause offense, but long enough to remind them who ruled here. Howard had served him since he was a child, and Benjamin trusted his Minister of Security. The same could not be said of the rest. 

“Presider Lewis.” The least dangerous man at the table rose to his feet shakily, cast a nervous look around the room, and fumbled with his glasses. It would be hypocritical to despise Lewis for being useless, since that was exactly why Benjamin had selected him, but the temptation was hard to resist. “What is the sentiment among the Conclave of Steaders?”

“Um,” Lewis said. “Well, the Protector knows that the Steaders are very loyal to him. Yes. Extremely loyal. And that I personally always support the Protector’s decisions.” Benjamin had never had anyone murdered for annoying him, but he was starting to see why tyrants indulged themselves. He cleared his throat sharply, and Lewis flinched. “Right. Sorry.” 

Taking a deep breath, Lewis said, “There are elements within the Steaders which are concerned by some of the Protector’s decrees. Liberals dislike the traditional powers that the Protector has righteously reclaimed for the protection of Grayson. Conservatives are displeased by the Protector’s wise and farsighted decisions to welcome our foreign allies and open more professions to women.” He cast a quick, fearful glance at Howard Clinkscales. “Everyone is less than fond of Planetary Security.” 

Howard glanced disdainfully at the Presider, and Lewis cringed away. Planetary Security was not  _ supposed  _ to be popular, and Lewis wasn’t offending anyone by stating the obvious. He was only offending Benjamin by being a coward. Perhaps he should replace Lewis, but it would be hard to find anyone so utterly spineless. 

At least the last Presider had been brave. Treasonous, yes, but not cowardly. Planetary Security was still trying to find which Steadholders he had been conspiring with. Unfortunately, not even Howard could interrogate a dead man, and the late Presider Mattheson had blown his own head off when Security men broke down the door. 

It was important, beyond a doubt, but it was also Howard’s job. Benjamin had other responsibilities. The Protector couldn’t afford to worry about every plot against him. 

“Good, good,” he said, and Lewis smiled nervously. “Thank you, Presider. We are grateful for your service.” 

In hindsight, the Conclave of Steaders had probably been a mistake. He had wanted a body of men to share their people’s concerns with the Protector, a kind of advisory panel; some of them had imagined the Conclave to be an independent legislature. Howard had been able to deal with most of the troublemakers, but Benjamin had a nasty suspicion that the smart ones were just keeping quiet about their treason. 

Benjamin said, “Jared.” His cousin rose slowly to his feet, clutching a bundle of papers. Jared looked angry and tired and frustrated, like always, and Benjamin felt a pang of sympathy for his cousin. It wasn’t easy to be the Minister of Industry for a developing nation, and it was harder when the Protector kept demanding that you integrate the workforce. 

“Protector.” Jared bowed low. “Industrial production is up this quarter, thanks to the new technologies introduced by our beloved allies. Strikes, protests, and sabotage are also up this quarter, thanks to the integration program supported by our beloved allies. The  _ John Mayhew _ ’s drive has been fixed, and there are no remaining issues with the vessel.”

Jared flipped through his papers. “We have a petition for women to be accepted as foremen and managers,” he said coldly. “I would say no, but I am giving it to my Protector so that he may make the decision he thinks best. We also have a woman- one Elise Hall- who would like to start a technical training program for both sexes. Again, I refer the matter to your wisdom.” 

Benjamin nodded his thanks, and Jared took his seat. The most powerful men on Grayson- and Presider Lewis- waited in silence for the Protector’s next command. 

It had not always been this way. When Father ruled, every one of his ministers had been a Steadholder, and they had been quick to dissent. They were never rude- not to the Protector- but they made it clear that Father was only the first among equals, and that he dare not act without the approval of the Conclave. The Steadholders had dreamed of a Grayson that remained forever unchanging, hidden away from the temptations of the outside world. 

Benjamin had saved his planet. He had brought Grayson modern industry and modern medicine, he had built the Navy so that Masada could never threaten them again, and he had secured a strong ally against outside threats. He had not done it alone, of course. 

Katherine had been his first and best ally from the start. Howard had backed him wholeheartedly during the Restoration. And Raoul, of course. None of this would have been possible without Raoul. 

No one had known about the Maccabeus Plot. No one had known about the encrypted messages passed among agents in the Army, a plot to decapitate Grayson’s government and throw the world into chaos. No one had known. 

No one except Raoul. And when he came to Benjamin, Benjamin had seen the truth. 

Benjamin’s grandfather had tried to restore the Protector’s power with pretty words, and the Steadholders had killed him for it. His father had lived in fear of his own vassals, terrified that he might die like Grandfather. Grayson was stagnating, and one day his son would be a puppet ruler for Haven or the Andermani. Unless. 

Uncle Oliver had not been a fierce conservative like his son. He had been a kind man, a loving father, and a good uncle to Benjamin.

Benjamin would be patient with Jared. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. 


	6. Chapter 6

She was back. 

The bridge of  _ Fearless  _ bustled with activity, and Honor watched her people with affection. A good captain needed to be strict, but she shouldn’t be afraid to show her subordinates how she felt. The thousand and one tasks of shipboard life were proceeding as planned, with no more than the usual quantity of minor disasters. There was an electrical short in the kitchens,  _ again _ , and Honor was going to pay for new wiring if she had to provide the money out of her own pocket. The port sidewall was weaker than it should be, but they weren’t going to solve that problem until the engineers took it apart and put it back together again. 

On the whole, it was looking like another long day full of meetings with her officers, bitter arguments with the shipyard’s civilian contractors, and relentless simulator drill until her crew literally collapsed at their stations.

Perfect. 

“You look happy, Captain.” Alistair McKeon appeared soundlessly at her side, but she didn’t jump. He scowled at her, and her smile widened. “Inventing some new cruelty to inflict on these poor children?”

“You know me too well, Alistair,” Honor said. “I was thinking that we’ll have a Masadan invasion at twelve hundred hours, just to raise their spirits. Then, at eighteen hundred hours, we’ll have a  _ Havenite  _ invasion. Led by Esther McQueen.” 

He grinned. “Oh, Captain,” he said, with unconcealed affection. “Those baby officers will be crying themselves to sleep tonight. Poor little Graysons.” 

“Alistair,” Honor told him sternly. “Treat them just like you would if they were from Manticore.” 

“Oh, I will,” he said. “A good executive officer doesn’t play favorites, skipper. I am the same vicious, unfeeling bastard to every last soul on this ship. Except my beloved captain, of course.” 

She waved him away, and he disappeared with the silent grace that was the terror of so many midshipmen. Honor hadn’t liked him on their first meeting. Or their second. Their first six months had consisted of Alistair being absolutely polite, which was something Alistair only did if he hated you. It was only when he warmed up to Honor that he started being irreverent.

One of the most important things a captain had to learn was how to watch without interfering. Subordinates had to be allowed to make mistakes now so that they could learn from them. Honor repeated that mantra in her head as she watched the midshipman at Navigation plot a course through the heart of a star. It was the kind of mistake that a freshman at the Academy would have made, but this was a commissioned officer. 

Her crew was not  _ bad _ . They were generally far better behaved than any Manticoran crew she’d ever had. Honor could tell that all of them had been handpicked for duty on Grayson’s first modern ship, and they were the best Grayson had. 

That was the problem. Alistair could deal with insolence and malingering. Honor took pride in her ability to motivate her crews. But Alistair’s looming menace and her patient encouragement could not train a navigator; that was what the Academy was for. She had been forced to invent her own curriculum to train a proper crew, and they still weren’t up to Manticoran standards. 

“Captain.” She turned to face her gunnery officer, and Carson Clinkscales snapped to attention. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain, but I humbly request a moment of your attention.” 

“It’s not a problem, Lieutenant,” she told him. Rising to her feet, she moved towards the tactical console. “Show me what you see.”

“Yes, Captain,” Clinkscales said. He tapped in a series of commands, moving slowly and carefully, while Honor tried not to twitch with annoyance. Shouting at the boy wouldn’t make him go any faster. Fortunately, she had mastered the art of maintaining a perfectly impassive expression at Saganami Island, where the sergeant major had liked to make cadets run laps whenever they flinched. 

The screen shifted to show Grayson’s high orbit, where a small, blinking dot hung just beyond one of the orbital factories. The flickering image was almost always the sign of a sensor ghost, but Honor didn’t want to discourage Clinkscales. “What do you see, Lieutenant?”

Clinkscales said, “The manual says that it’s a false return. And nine out of ten times it would be. But I remember the simulation you had us run, Captain. The battle where Admiral Parnell used “sensor ghosts” to trick the Royal Manticoran Navy into an ambush.”

He flushed abruptly. “Um, not to imply anything about the Royal Manticoran Navy, Captain…”

“Lieutenant,” Honor said mildly. “The RMN has lost battles. You aren’t going to offend me by pointing that out.” The Second Battle of Alizon was the most one-sided defeat in the history of the RMN. Admiral Santino had assumed that the false positives were the result of a stellar phenomena, and he’d lost Fourth Fleet. 

“I have a job for you, Lieutenant,” she said, and Carson Clinkscales snapped to attention again. “Take a pinnace, fly out there, and tell me what you see. Afterwards, we’ll go through Second Alizon in the simulator and you’ll tell me how Amos Parnell pulled it off. Dismissed!” 

He saluted, turned on his heel, and walked very quickly towards the boat bay. It was probably nothing, just like the vast majority of sensor ghosts, but Honor thought that it would still be a valuable lesson. Maybe one day Admiral Clinkscales would avoid an ambush because he remembered to always check the ghosts. 

Besides, he’d given her an idea. She hadn’t had any plans for  _ tomorrow’s  _ exercises, but it occurred to her that most of the crew were not nearly as dutiful as Lieutenant Clinkscales. If they found themselves in a situation with a known enemy ahead of them, would they really bother to check for hidden ships? 

It would be obvious if she ran a simulation in the Alizon system, but it wouldn’t be hard to set up a  _ Havenite  _ ambush above, say, Masada. After all, everyone knew that the Masadans didn’t have any proper stealth systems, so why would they think twice about some sensor ghosts? 

Humming cheerfully to herself, Honor Harrington got to work. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Second Maccabeus.” 

Raoul Courvoisier didn’t usually hate his enemies. He had admired Amos Parnell, and he still sent money to the surviving members of the Parnell clan. He was friends with Chien-lu Anderman, even though the man had tried to kill him twice. Even Sabrina Longmont, the People’s Admiral, inspired more pity than hatred. 

It was depressingly easy to hate the Masadans. Every time he visited the Yeltsin system, he discovered new reasons. He could only imagine how the Graysons felt after six hundred years of this lunacy. 

Minister Howard Clinkscales held up a small black box. “We found this in the pod,” he said. “There aren’t many details, but the Manticoran techs were able to break the encryption. The operation is named Second Maccabeus, and the data suggests that the Masadans have high-ranking traitors waiting to support a coup against the Protector.” 

He believed that they’d found all of the original Maccabeans, but there would always be more fanatics. The first conspiracy had begun because the conspirators feared that foreign influence would destroy the Faith; a second conspiracy could point to Benjamin’s reforms as evidence that the Godless foreigners had succeeded. The fact that none of those reforms would have been possible if not for the Maccabeus Plot...well, no one ever said that fanatics had to be rational.

Their new plan certainly wasn’t reasonable. Even if they did manage to kill Benjamin, Jared Mayhew would become Protector, and the Maccabeus Plot had murdered his father Oliver along with the rest of the Protector’s Council. His ascension would be a wonderful gift to Grayson’s traditionalists, but even Jared’s conservative zeal was nothing more than apostasy to the Masadans. They would never be satisfied with anything short of outright conquest. 

It was unlikely that they’d thought further than the assassination. General Baxter had proclaimed the Kingdom of God over the dead bodies of the Council, but he hadn’t put any thought into what would happen after. He had believed that the people of Grayson would rise up to murder the foreigners, execute their heretical rulers, and restore the True Faith. When this didn’t happen, his backup plan had been to threaten them with the fires of hell, detailing increasingly elaborate and horrible punishments until loyal soldiers broke into the Council room and shot him dead. 

Raoul hated Masadans. 

A fire was burning in the hearth, and Raoul warmed his hands as he thought. It was entirely possible that this was a trick. The pod had been in high orbit, and it had been waiting there for more than a week. Some cunning Masadan could be trying to trick the Protector.

It was entirely possible that this  _ wasn’t  _ a trick. They might not have discovered the pod at all. If not for Honor- bless that girl- remembering his old story about Amos Parnell, they might not have found the messenger pod for months. They might not have found it at all.

Some part of Raoul admired the cleverness of the design. Build a messenger pod large enough for one man, then launch it on a ballistic course to a planet. Calculate the course carefully enough, and the pod winds up in high orbit. From there, your messenger can send a transmission to your spies on the planet, and they can come and pick him up. 

Unless there is a malfunction, and your messenger dies of oxygen deprivation in his sleep. Then your enemies find the pod and the message. Unless that is what you want them to do. 

You could drive yourself mad guessing at what the enemy wanted you to know. At some point, you had to make a decision. Leaning forward, Raoul said, “Protector Benjamin. It’s your call.” 

“We go forward,” Benjamin said immediately. One hand rested on the sword at his side, but his voice was calm and level. “I’m not letting the Masadans frighten me into calling off the invasion.” 

Clinkscales looked torn between the safety of his monarch and an urgent desire to burn Masada and sow the ashes with salt. Raoul shared his feelings. There was no  _ right  _ decision here, just a choice of dangers with flawed intelligence. Politics sometimes had a great deal in common with naval operations. 

Benjamin said, “We’ll take precautions. Howard, I want you to rearrange the Army units around Austin City. I know that we don’t have enough reliable officers, but I want the unreliably liberal officers closer and the unreliably conservative officers further away. The Masadans aren’t going to make common cause with the constitutional monarchists.” 

It was dangerous to send the Navy away. They were the heart of Benjamin’s support, the iron fist that hung over his enemies on Grayson. But it was the Protector’s decision to make, and Raoul was not his puppetmaster, no matter what dissidents whispered behind closed doors. Benjamin had always made his own choices. 

Katherine had been sitting quietly in a corner, knitting a scarf. The picture of traditional Grayson womanhood. Now she rose to her feet, walked over to her husband’s side, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re right, dear,” she said. “But there are the additional precautions that we discussed earlier. We had planned to wait until after the war, but given this intelligence, I believe that now might be a good time.”

Her delicate face was expressionless. Howard Clinkscales was grinning hungrily as he opened his briefcase and drew out a folder. Benjamin only looked solemn, like a judge about to pass sentence. 

Raoul did not think that Benjamin was a sadist. He had never seen him take any delight in the deaths of his enemies, even the Steadholders who had murdered his grandfather. Grayson’s tyrant took delight from the growth of his nation’s Navy and the prosperity of his people, not the corpses that had made those accomplishments possible. Raoul thought that in another world, in another time, Benjamin could have been a good man. The Protector was not cruel, only afraid.

“Monster” was a word that people used out of ignorance. Some would call Raoul a monster, but they would be wrong. He and Benjamin were only people, like Gustav Anderman and Cordelia Ransom and Chairman Pierre. 

The Protector of Grayson signed each document carefully in red ink. Raoul only caught glimpses of the names, but he recognized some of them. He knew some of them. Time crept by, and the stack of documents grew and grew. By the time Benjamin rose to his feet, there were hundreds of papers piled neatly on the desk. 

“Take care of it all at once, Howard,” Benjamin ordered. “One night.” 

Howard Clinkscales bowed and was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and Raoul was alone in the room with the Protector and his senior wife. 

In the morning, Doctor Houseman would send a full report to Manticore, and no one would care. Benjamin Mayhew could eat babies as long as he granted the RMN a fleet base. The mighty would not weep for a few backwards fanatics on a barren world. The people might read about the “Grayson Purge” in a newspaper, but they would forget soon enough. 

The clock ticked steadily as they sat in the firelight. Katherine ran a hand through her husband’s hair, and Raoul wondered what she was thinking. Was she imagining the knock on the door, the cry of terror, the sudden  _ crack  _ of a pistol? 

Whatever his crimes, Benjamin Mayhew had not  _ invented  _ Grayson’s tradition of political murder. He had taken power by the only means available to him, and he had used that power to make Grayson a better place. Grayson’s people lived longer under Protector Benjamin’s rule. Their children had full bellies, and modern medicine, and it was not like they had been free under the Steadholders.

“Elaine is pregnant,” Benjamin said. His voice was quiet, even subdued. “The child is a son.”

Raoul opened his mouth to congratulate the Protector, saw Benjamin’s face, and said nothing. 

Katherine said, “She’s not like us. Elaine grew up far away from the capital, far away from...everything.” She smiled gently, staring at something only she could see. “I wanted Benjamin to marry her. I don’t think I would be a very good mother.”

Her husband reached over to wrap his arm around her shoulders, and Katherine leaned back into his touch. Raoul looked away, suddenly conscious that he was intruding. He knew Benjamin the Protector, Benjamin the politician, Benjamin the ruthless tyrant, but he knew nothing of the man’s private life. It was easy to see Protector Benjamin and his wife at work and forget that they were married, that they shared a life together outside of Grayson’s bloody political games.

Raoul’s parents were long dead, and he hadn’t spoken with his sister in years. He had no family but the Navy, and no child of his own. “I’ll keep him safe,” he said quietly. It was a promise he had no right to make; a Queen’s officer had no honor except duty, and his duty was to his country, not to the child of a tyrant and a sweet young woman. “I’ll keep him safe, Benjamin.” 


End file.
